True Confessions
by dreamgazer220
Summary: Sometimes, I wondered why I was still friends with him. I wasn't lying when I told him that. He really could be a jerk, but the fact was that I loved him. I was totally and completely, head-over-heels, madly-truly-deeply, 'till-death-do-us-part in love.


It was raining.

A perfect Saturday afternoon in Malibu, California was ruined by rain that cascaded down from the gray sky. The sand on the beach was sogging wet, and I was probably the only one in their right mind walking along the ocean side. Waves crashed, making big impacts on the way the water tugged at the sand, bringing it into the ocean.

I was soaking wet. But I didn't care.

_"Oliver, you're such a jerk! I can't believe you would do that!"_

_Oliver glanced over at me, quirking his eyebrow. "Do what? I was just comforting her; she was upset about Jake! And hey, I thought you were supposed to be her best friend, too! I didn't see you around when Jake broke up with her… again."_

_"Oh, what? You were comforting her and your lips just magically landed on hers?!"_

_"I don't even know why you care, Lils!"_

_"You don't know why I care? You don't know why I care that you just kissed my best friend when her boyfriend just broke up with her, TWO DAYS after I told you that I've had a crush on you since kindergarten?!" I shouted, feeling heat rise on my face._

_"But then you said you just held my hand because you wanted my crayon! Honestly, Lils, I didn't think you were serious!" he protested._

_I screamed in frustration, throwing my hands up in the air. We were at his house; it was a Thursday afternoon after school, and we had just gotten home from school. I had been determined to figure out why he hadn't said anything after I confessed the biggest secret of my life – that I'd been crushing on my best friend since kindergarten; since he had stolen the crayon that I had wanted to use. Plus, he had the 64 pack. The one with the sharpener! And when our hands brushed, I'd felt a jolt of electricity._

_Yes, even in kindergarten._

_"I can't believe you kissed her," I whispered._

_"It was an accident. Honestly, it didn't mean anything—she's still head over heels for Jake anyway, though I can't understand why. He's such a jerk… she can do so much better."_

_I glared at him. "Always about her, isn't it? Everything is ALWAYS about her – the great Miley Stewart. Miley, Hannah, she's just so wonderful and perfect! But what about me, Oliver?"_

_He blinked. "What about you?"_

_I closed the distance between us and slapped him clean across his cheek._

_"I can't believe, you, Oliver. You're such a jerk," I hissed, my hand stinging from the impact. He looked at me, as if he couldn't believe that I'd just slapped him, and I couldn't believe myself. We were seventeen._

_We were supposed to be more mature than this. _

_"If I'm such a jerk, then why are you still friends with me?"_

_I felt like screaming again. "Sometimes," I replied, trying to keep my voice even, although I was having a hard time making my own breathing steady after I had slapped him. "I ask myself the same question."_

_And then I stormed out of his house._

I haven't heard from him since, not that I could blame him. We avoided each other in school. I felt bad for Miley, as we were both so awkward around each other that we didn't know how to interact if we had to be near each other. She had to deal with us, and she had to deal with the fact that Jake Ryan broke up with her… again, and the fact that he was seeing another girl. At least, those were the rumors.

But then again, he _was _Jake Ryan, and he could do whatever he wanted.

Even if that meant breaking my best friend's heart.

Senior year was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be incredible—Miley, Oliver, and I were supposed to be inseparable, like we were ever since Miley had moved to California. But even then, Oliver and I had always been closer. It was nice to have another girl around, but even I got tired of Miley sometimes. It always seemed to be about her – her and her alter-ego, Hannah Montana. I knew that she was a good friend and cared about me and Oliver, but sometimes, I felt like she got so wrapped up in her own stardom and forgot about us.

At least, us as Lilly and Oliver, and not her side-kicks.

I always tried to put myself before her. After all, I was pretty low-maintenance and didn't need much. Just my friends and a skateboard, and life was good.

Now it was raining, soaking me through my clothes and making them stick to my skin. My blonde hair fought its way onto my face, as it was one of the rare occasions that I actually wore my hair down.

I felt kicked to the side. Now that Oliver and I weren't speaking, and Miley was still trying to get over Jake and being Hannah Montana, I felt alone. That was why I liked hanging out with Oliver so much—I didn't feel empty. I felt complete, and I felt absolutely perfect and wonderful.

I guess I couldn't blame him for not speaking to me. I mean, I _did _slap him, but he did kiss Miley! What kind of friend did that, kiss you when he was trying to comfort you after your boyfriend broke up with you?! More importantly, what kind of friend did that after his other friend (i.e. me) confessed her feelings for him, and then just stood there like a dumb-struck idiot?!

Sometimes, I wondered why I was still friends with Oliver. I wasn't lying when I told him that. He really could be a jerk, but the fact was that I loved him. I was totally and completely, head-over-heels, madly-truly-deeply, 'till-death-do-us-part in love with my best friend. And he probably hated me now.

After walking nearly the entire length of the beach, I finally headed back towards town. I was probably just going to go home and take a nap, or watch a movie. I wasn't sure what Miley was doing, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was with Oliver.

I sighed heavily. I can't believe I had been stupid enough to tell him how I felt when it was obvious he was crushing on Miley. He did have the biggest crush on Hannah Montana, and that was even before he knew it was his best friend.

Of course. She got the entire world at her feet – and she, of course, had to take the only thing I really wanted. The only person that I really wanted.

Oliver.

The walk home was uneventful. Part of me expected Oliver to just show up at random, to sweep me off of my feet and confess that he loved me. He'd tell me that he was just being a stupid jerk, and he'd been confused about his feelings. He'd tell me that the only person, the only girl he wanted to be with was me, and that he and Miley were just friends. They were going to remain just friends.

The one he wanted to be with was me.

_Face it, Lil, _I told myself as I walked down my familiar street. Rain was still hammering down on me, and I was beginning to get cold. Even in the normally warm Malibu, the rain cold everything down. Especially in October. _Oliver's not the kind of guy that would do that. It's just your stupid imagination._

Finally I made it home. My porch was empty – I'd half expected Oliver to be sitting on the swing, waiting for me to return. But then I remembered that I had a cell phone, and said boy had my number. If he wanted me, he could have called or texted me. Since he did neither, I was sure he was still ignoring me after I slapped him.

Not that I could blame him, but I was hurt! I was hurt that he'd kissed my best friend; I was hurt that he just stood there, staring at me when I told him that I liked him! I had the tendency to overreact when I was hurt, and he _knew _that. Though I'd never done anything so rash as slapping him before.

I walked into my empty house, taking off my sandals and discarding my shirt. I didn't care because I was alone, and it was already sticking to me. It was practically see-through, so there wasn't a point to it anyway.

"Do you always take your shirt off when you walk into your house? If so, I should sneak in more often."

I froze when I heard his voice.

"H-How d-did you get in here?" I stuttered out, staring wide-eyed and too shocked to move.

"Lils, I know where your spare key is. You weren't responding to my texts, so I figured I'd just meet you back here," he said easily, his eyes studying me over. I blushed, and, realizing that I was still shirtless, scrambled to pull on my sopping shirt again.

"I… I didn't get any of your texts," I replied confusedly. "You should've called before coming over here. I can't believe you'd just walk into someone's house, completely unannounced, waiting for me!"

Oliver laughed. "What, are you going to slap me for that too?"

"Oliver!"

He got up from the kitchen island and walked over to where I was still standing in the living room. "Look, I didn't mean to startle you. I was considering crawling through your window last night, but you don't have a ladder or anything convenient nearby, like a tree. I didn't want to risk my neck coming over here, and then I remembered that you keep your spare key in the plastic turtle."

I blinked a few times, still trying to register that he was here. Oliver was here, standing in my kitchen on a rainy Saturday afternoon. I was soaking wet, and he still looked perfectly dry – and he had been considering crawling through my window!

"Wait… why would you crawl through my window to get here?" I asked.

"So that I could do this," answered Oliver easily, before pulling me into his arms, in spite of the fact that I was soaking wet, and kissing my lips.

I responded to him instantly. And then I remembered what our last fight had been about – about him kissing Miley after I told him that I liked him. I pulled away rather abruptly, and a bit reluctantly. Oliver looked hurt that I had, but I stared at him.

"What, is it your new thing to go around kissing your best friends all the time?"

"This was a bit more romantic when I pictured it in my head," he mumbled, thinking that I couldn't hear him. But I did. "Listen, I made a mistake when I kissed Miley. I told you, it didn't mean anything. Besides, it was more like she kissed me. And the only reason that I didn't say anything to you when you told me that you liked me was because I couldn't find the words to say, and you left so quickly I didn't have the chance to react."

I was trying to catch my breath, trying to take this all in. He'd just kissed me. Smokin' Oken – Oliver Oken – had just _kissed me._ In my kitchen.

"Oliver…"

"No, Lilly, just be quiet for a minute. I have to get this out. I didn't know how to put into words what I felt about you; what I _still _feel about you. And even now, I don't know how to say it. You've just… you gotta believe me, Lils. When Miley kissed me, all I thought about was how I wanted to kiss you instead. When you slapped me, I ignored you in school because I thought you hated me. I guess I can't blame you if you do, even though I'd like to think that's not true…"

I shook my head. "Oliver, I don't hate you," I assured him.

His adorable brown eyes lit up, and it wasn't the first time that I was glad that my parents were out for the afternoon. It might have been awkward if they were just walking around, much like Miley's dad did.

"You don't?" he asked excitedly.

"Would I have kissed you back like that if I did?" I challenged, quirking my brow.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, you girls are so complicated…" he trailed off, grinning at me.

"Us _girls_?" I asked, astonished. "No way. Try figuring out you boys! You're probably a thousand times more complicated than we are! It's not hard to just give us flowers and chocolate and tell us that we're pretty!"

Oliver laughed, smiling. "So… you don't hate me?" he asked, as if he was nervous that I had changed my mind in the last five seconds.

"No. In fact, it's about the farthest thing from hate that I feel about you," I answered, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"And what might that be?" he wondered, smirking slightly.

I laughed. "I think you know. But since you're not the brightest crayon in the box, I'll give you a hint. It starts with the letter 'L'."

"You Lilly me?"

I giggled. "No, you idiot. I love you, Oliver Oken."

He beamed at me. "I love you too, Lillian Truscott," he breathed out before leaning in and kissing me passionately.

I smiled against his lips, and kissed him back just as passionately. It didn't matter that we weren't standing out in the rain. It didn't matter that we'd just gotten into one of the biggest fights of our entire friendship a few days ago, which included me slapping him.

All that mattered was that we had each other – and that we loved each other.

And there was nothing that I wanted more. I was in love with Oliver Oken, and he was in love with me. Not even being Lola – or even Hannah Montana, for that matter – could give me a better feeling than this.


End file.
